


Rain

by Forever_Imagining



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_Imagining/pseuds/Forever_Imagining
Summary: Based on “A Little Fall of Rain” scene from Les Mis. You were kidnapped by Grounders and went missing for weeks. Hope appeared in the form of a rescue. Your old childhood friend, John Murphy, found you. But hope never lasts long.





	Rain

You didn’t know much. It all came back in flashes. The dirt beneath boots. The light through a small window. The blood staining your clothes. You knew you had little to no chance of surviving. You hadn’t seen the 100 in, perhaps, over a month. It was hard to keep track when you kept fading in and out of consciousness.

“(Y/n)!”

You groaned. You knew that voice. It was Murphy. You and Murphy had a complicated relationship. When the two of you were little, you were the best of friends. However, both of you got thrown into the SkyBox. Living there changed the both of you, and when the two of you saw each other again, things were different.

For Murphy, you were still his friend. He missed the times he spent with you. However, being a one of Bellamy’s men meant showing no weakness, and you, unfortunately, were a weakness. For you, well, it was a bit more complicated on your side. Being without your best friend made you miss him even more, and you grew… fonder of him. When you saw him again, your voice got caught in your throat and you couldn’t help the giddiness that welled up inside you Yep, it was the cliché. You fell in love with your childhood best friend, who would never love you back.

Hearing Murphy call out your name in such a pained voice, it sparked something within you. A burst of energy woke up your entire body. You mustered all of that energy to drag yourself across the cell. You reached up to grasp the bars, feeling drops of rain trickle down your fingers. “Murphy,” you croaked. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Murphy.”

“(Y/n)? Where are you?!”

You took a deep breath. “John.”

Murphy spotted your hand grasping some sort of makeshift bar. He sprinted to you, placing his hand on yours. “(Y/n)?”

You smiled. “Long time, no see.”

Your friend looked at your fingers, his eyes darkening at the sight. “They tortured you,” he whispered. “We’re getting you out of here.”

You let go of the bars and scooted away from opening.

Using the butt of his gun and his foot, Murphy broke through prison. He jumped inside and helped you to your feet. When you struggled so much just to stand, Murphy picked you up and ran out of the Grounder camp. He held you close. “You’re gonna be ok. I’m here.”

You held onto him, trying to keep your eyes open.

The aches and pain kept you awake. You didn’t remember much about what had happened, but you knew that something was wrong. Your stomach was on fire, and you were sweating profusely. However, you had hope. Clarke would know what to do. And if not she, than Lincoln would know.

Grounders. They appeared from nowhere, with guns, bows, and knives. Many of the 100 were there as well, fighting them off. But one was staring at you, or rather at Murphy. This one had a gun. You panicked, your grip on Murphy loosening. You fell to the ground.

Murphy bent to pick you up. “Come on!” he had yelled.

The Grounder aimed his gun at Murphy’s back.

“No!”

Rain pounded against the ground. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared.

Pain. It struck you right in the chest. The air was knocked right out of you. It was hard to breathe.

Screams filled the air. You weren’t sure whose scream it was, Murphy’s or yours.

It was hard to remember what came next. Murphy carried you somewhere, behind a hut, or maybe behind a grove of trees. You felt weak and tired. Energy drained from your body. Your eyelids were heavy. You couldn’t breathe. You coughed. Blood ran down your lips. Your lungs were closing, constricting. Blood. Trees. Murphy.

“Oh god.” Murphy clutched you to him. “Stay with me. Hey, look at me.” He brushed away your hair and cursed when he saw the blood staining your lips. Not even the rain was washing it away. “(Y/n), come on.”

You smiled. You struggled to breath. “Don’t worry,” you choked. “Rain… it doesn’t hurt.” You would’ve laughed, but it hurt to do so. You coughed up more blood. You turned away.

“I don’t care about the fucking rain, (Y/n)! I care about the bullet lodged in your chest!” He frantically looked around. He contemplated shouting for Clarke, but he was in Grounder territory, nowhere near the dropship. He glared at your blood-stained shirt, angry at wound.

You coughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek. You smiled. “Stay with me?”

Murphy blinked. He stared at you. Your friend gulped before grabbing your hand and rubbing circles on it with his thumb. “I’m staying.”

“That’s all I… All I need.” You nodded, breathing harder. Your lungs were filling up with blood. You knew it, but being in Murphy’s arms, knowing that you would die in his arms, it made you feel better. You would die in the arms of the man you loved. You coughed, blooding spilling once again. “I love you,” you whispered with a sad smile.

His eyes widened. He gulped. “Don’t leave. Please.”

Your breathing staggered. You tried to smile. “It would’ve taken you.” Weight crushed your chest. “It’s…” Your hand fell from his cheek and dropped to the forest floor. The rain stopped.

“No. No! (Y/n)!” Murphy held you closer. He closed his eyes, tears spilling. Your friend shook his head. “You can’t do this to me! (Y/n)!” He shook you. Your body limply sagged in his arms.

Your friend hugged you to his chest. He stayed silent, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his friend, the only one who knew his childhood secrets and liked him for it… Scratch that. You loved him for it. You were dead

Murphy sighed and kissed your forehead. Cold. Lifeless. Dead. He touched your fingers. Cold. Lifeless. Dead. Murphy stroked your cheek. Cold. Lifeless. Dead.

He pursed his lips. Anger boiled up inside of him. Throwing his head back, he screamed a painful cry.

Murphy’s head drooped, and he allowed himself to cry. Grounders must’ve heard his scream. They’d be coming. Murphy didn’t care. You were dead.


End file.
